Is there a lesson in loneliness?

I haven't been with many men. There. I said it. Think what you want. I dated a lot in high school. Goes with the "head cheerleader" territory I suppose. Not that I was one of those slut cheerleaders--even though my sweater had the word "head" stitched on it. But since then? Not so much. Perhaps I peaked too soon? Captain of the rival basketball team, Mr. Moreau and Mr. Mission is hard to top. (Again, think what you want.) I can count on one hand the number of times I've been in love. Although, I guess if you can count on more than one hand the number of times you've been in love, it probably wasn't really love now was it?

I don't think the low sperm count is due to the fact that I don't relate to men well. At least I hope not. I have had so many good male friends--still do. I'd like to think it's just logistics. I don't meet many datable men--or put myself in places to meet potential mates. I was a contract TV producer for a number of years so no break room flirting. And I kinda made it a rule not to date the audio guy. So maybe it's a numbers game? The more you meet, the more you marry? I've never been married. Got asked once in the backseat of a taxi cab (not by the driver) but I think he was joking. Or gay, because it came with conditions--separate bedrooms.

Remember when your Mom used to say, don't worry "There's someone for everyone!"??? It may have been that way when she was raised--but that just isn't true anymore. I have a scientific explanation for this shift in balance. There's not someone for everyone--because when "they" used to say that--you'd mate for life. Find a guy and get married. Once. Someone (guy) for everyone (girl). Now, with divorce being about as easy as changing your hair style, that's not the case. Everyone's on their 2nd and 3rd marriage--so--someone HAS my someone! It's all outta whack. Just not enough 1st time magic to go around if we're all gonna get 2-3 husbands or wives? Hence the large amount of baggage--or what I call leftovers. Make sense? (It does to me)

And that is absolutely why my interaction with men has pretty much slowed down, just not enough to go around. (insert laugh track)  At least that's what I tell myself when I'm sitting at home alone on a Friday night. Like last night. Whoever said "It's better to have loved and lost" isn't eating entire bags of popcorn by themselves. Don't get me wrong--I'm thankful for the lovely men I have had in my life the past X years. (sorry, some things are just too embarrassing even for a blog.) I just wish one of them woulda stuck.

Reader's Digest Version: Number one we'll just call "A Tall Drink of Water"...not because he looked like George Clooney but because he was tall. And I am not. I think this was the first man I really fell in love with. Only--because of that fact--I figured eating Chinese food together, going to the movies and having sex--meant he loved me too. I mean, there was a lot of it. (You think I'm gonna tell you which?) That involvement--I hesitate to call it a relationship--went on and off for a long time. I hate to think I wasted my child bearing years on bad chow mein waiting for a ring in a fortune cookie, but when you're in love...sadly the friendship didn't last either. Something to do with me accosting him at a fundraiser at the local convent. I'm pretty sure Sister John Marie was on my side that day, as Tall Drink came walking by hand in hand with another woman--just days after we played egg roll on his couch.

The next significant dude, wasn't really significant relationship-wise, but he was significant in my ability to move forward. A random email led to a fun frolic with an old high school football stud. We didn't see each other much because he lived out of town, but when we did, it was amazing. I don't know if it was because he knew me before all the self doubt and heartbreak that comes with being a grown-up--but he made me feel so good about myself--no, he made me feel like I could be that girl who used to cheer for him on the sidelines again--fearless, in charge and completely worthy of a football stud. (And yes, the sweater with the word "Head" stitched on it, made a middle-age appearance. In this case, how could it not?)

I think that little affair put me in the right place to fall in love again. And by place, I mean confident place. This time with Mr. PP--aka: the Wilco Boy. And that turned out to be a blessed event--for 2.5 years. Double that and we're home again. Wondering why I spend so much time alone. I've learned so many valuable lessons from all the relationships I've had--still learning them from my last. But the one I can't seem to digest is--what's the lesson in being alone? Is it to teach you how to be comfortable with yourself? To like yourself? To be more independent? I kinda thought I was. I know countless women and men who say they envy me. That they never get time to themselves. "You're lucky you don't have to answer to anybody." And some of that--I agree with. But I am getting tired of it.

So what's the answer? Why do I have such trouble meeting men? Or keeping the ones I pick? Someone told me once--"Your picker is just off."  Maybe. And that's what we'll talk about next. Father's Day is once again upon us. And I'd like to know if you ended up with a guy just like dear old dad? For now--I gotta go through my closet. I'm thinking of having the word "Head" stitched on a few things...my sweaters, coats, yoga pants...